I've definitely been here before.

There's no mistaking it now. The walls, the faint crack in the floor, even that crooked vase on the shelf—it's all exactly the same.

But as I stood there, something else started to bother me.

"...Wait a second."

This wasn't just déjà vu. There was something fundamentally wrong about this place.

'Can dreams even be this detailed?'

No matter how vivid a dream is, there's always a limit.

In my first dream—the one where I admired that breathtaking landscape—it had all seemed real at first glance. But once the chaos began, I'd realized the subtle flaws. The details didn't add up.

No rustling leaves, no chirping birds, not even a single cloud drifting across the sky. It was beautiful, yes—but still artificial, like a painting missing its final strokes.

But this place…

This was different.

The patterns on the walls and the texture of the stone floors flowed seamlessly together. The faint hum of air echoed softly through the corridor. Even the paintings—each one was unique, with brushstrokes that felt alive.

Every little detail existed with eerie precision. Too precise for a dream.

'Can someone even dream something like this?'

I've experienced four different dreams so far, but none of them ever felt this grounded, this tangible.

This place didn't just push the boundary of imagination—it shattered it.

Lost in thought, I reached out and rested my hand on the wall.

Click.

"Huh?"

A faint sound echoed through the corridor—small, mechanical, and unmistakably real.

My eyes widened slightly as the section of wall beneath my palm shifted ever so slightly, as if responding to my touch.

The wall that had looked perfectly solid just moments ago suddenly gave way the instant my hand brushed against it.

Then—

Rumble… rumble…

A deep grinding echoed through the corridor as the stones began to shift, sliding against each other like ancient gears coming to life. Dust rained down from the ceiling.

"…What the…"

I instinctively took a step back, my hand tightening on my weapon as the wall continued to move.

After a few tense seconds, the sound stopped. The wall had completely split open, revealing a dark passageway beyond.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring warily into the blackness.

The silence that followed was almost oppressive.

I swallowed once, forcing down the unease creeping up my spine, and slowly stepped forward.

The air that flowed from within was cold—unnaturally so.

And then, the moment my foot crossed the threshold, the darkness stirred.

Flick. Flick.

One by one, the luminous stones embedded in the ceiling began to glow, chasing away the shadows and illuminating what lay inside.

"…A laboratory?"

That was the first thought that crossed my mind.

Strange magic circles were scrawled across the floor and walls—some glowing faintly, others long faded. Stacks of old papers and shattered glass tubes littered the tables.

It looked like someone had been conducting experiments here—years ago, maybe even centuries—and then vanished without a trace.

I stepped further in, the echo of my boots sounding far too loud in the empty room.

In the far corner of the room, something caught my eye—a large iron cage, half-swallowed by the shadows.

It wasn't empty.

Something was inside.

Curiosity and unease pushed me forward. My boots scraped against the stone floor as I approached, the faint sound echoing through the silence.

When I finally peered through the bars, my breath caught.

Inside the cage was a creature—its head that of a serpent, scales glinting faintly under the dim light. But its body… its body was unmistakably canine, its limbs trembling weakly, eyes clouded with a dull, tired glow.

The unnatural sight made my stomach twist.

I knew exactly what I was looking at.

A synthetic creature.

A chimera.

A forbidden creation born from the fusion of multiple living beings through magic.

"...Unbelievable," I murmured.

The process of fusion—melding life with life—had been outlawed centuries ago. It wasn't just a matter of ethics or faith; it was because such experiments were catastrophically dangerous.

A single failure could destabilize mana flows, corrupt nearby life, even twist space itself.

It wasn't an exaggeration to say that this was a technique capable of destroying not only the Empire, but the entire world.

I stood in silence for a long moment, watching the chimera breathe faintly inside the cage. Its eyes followed me with something like pleading—or hatred.

Then I noticed something beside it.

A worn desk. A single sheet of paper resting on top, covered in neat handwriting.

I reached out and picked it up.

[Experiment Journal]

—Imperial Year 508. At last, success. The first fusion has been achieved.

"...508?" I whispered. "It's 623 now."

That was over a hundred years ago.

And yet the paper in my hand looked fresh—no yellowing, no dust, not even the faintest sign of decay.

It was as if it had been written just yesterday.

My brow furrowed as I continued to read, unease creeping up my spine with every word.

Each line was filled with a meticulous, almost reverent tone—notes of progress, frustration, obsession.

And the deeper I read, the clearer it became.

This wasn't just an experiment.

It was the beginning of something far worse.

----

Project Log — Codename: Metamorphosis

---

Imperial Year 507, May 24th

Humans… we are too fragile. Too slow. Too weak. Compared to other races, we're pitifully behind in every way that matters.

If things continue like this, humanity will be wiped out.

That's why we've decided to find a new path—a way to break free from the limits of flesh and weakness.

---

Imperial Year 507, June 7th

At last, permission has been granted from above.

The project has a name now: Metamorphosis.

Our goal is simple—to evolve humanity into something greater, something worthy of survival. We will rewrite what it means to be human.

---

Imperial Year 508, April 17th

After countless sleepless nights, we've found our first clue.

A being—no, a miracle—possessing abilities unlike anything we've ever documented.

We decided to call her Eve.

She may be the key. The first step toward a new humanity.

---

Imperial Year 508, November 30th

Success!

Using the essence extracted from Eve, we've achieved our first synthesis. The test subject was an ordinary animal—nothing extraordinary.

But after the fusion, it survived. It lived.

Its cells began to change, adapt, and grow stronger.

We are so close now. So very close.

---

Imperial Year 510, January 12th

Failure.

Everything was prepared exactly as before, but the second synthesis rejected the fusion. The subject's body couldn't handle it.

What did we miss?

We'll need to alter our approach—perhaps the binding ratio, or the magical stability.

We can't give up now.

---

Imperial Year 513, December 14th

Another failure.

Damn it all.

The thirteenth subject was stable for days, showing promising results—until it suddenly changed.

Twisted. Unrecognizable.

It wasn't human anymore. Not animal either. Something… else.

We're one step away. Just one step away from perfection, yet I can't reach it.

---

Imperial Year 514, February 2nd

Time is running out.

A meeting has been scheduled with the higher-ups to discuss the termination of Project Metamorphosis.

Termination? When we stand at the edge of human evolution?

They can't stop us. Not now.

---

Imperial Year 514, February 15th

Damn those cowards.

They've cut off all funding, all support.

The others left—every one of them. Abandoned the project. Abandoned me.

We were so close.

We could have made humans perfect.

---

Imperial Year 514, March 12th

Only I remain. The others are gone, and soon I'll be removed as well.

I have one month left.

One month to complete what I started.

If I fail… humanity will remain broken, bound to its own weakness.

---

Imperial Year 514, March 30th

They call me mad. They say I'm obsessed.

But how can they understand?

This isn't madness.

It's salvation.

I'll try one last method—one final synthesis.

If this doesn't work, then—

[The rest of the record is obscured by blotches of ink and claw-like scratches.]

---

A faint line at the bottom, barely legible:

> "Humanity will change… even if I must become the first to fall."

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